She's Changed Her Mind
by LornaCat
Summary: Karl has a terrible plan to free Bree from Orson. pro-Orson, anti-Brarl, written during the hiatus between seasons 5 and 6, so spoilers through the end of season 5.
1. He Wanted Her All To Himself

Title: She's Changed Her Mind  
Spoilers: through the end of season 5. (This was written during the hiatus between seasons 5 and 6)  
Summary: Karl has a terrible plan to free Bree from Orson. Sometimes it's too late to change your mind.  
Rated R for language & violence.

* * *

"You know I'd do anything for you. Don't you?"

A cool breeze blew in the open window. The curtains rippled, and then she felt the breeze hit her bare skin. Goosebumps formed all over Bree's back and shoulders, except where Karl's hand softly caressed her. Her head rested on his chest, there in the motel bed, their lower halves covered by a thin white sheet.

She didn't answer. It hurt him to know she still didn't trust him. Not fully.

His eyes and his hands moved to her hair, the silky fire that framed her face so well. Karl tucked strands of it behind her ear, and she sighed.

She was tired. Tired of sneaking around, tired of hiding, tired of working so hard to please Orson when all she wanted to do was collapse into Karl's arms.

She still wanted a divorce, no matter how many dinners Orson cooked for her, no matter how many romantic dates he planned for her, no matter how many times he insisted she stay in for the night instead of going out with her friends. Because 'going out with her friends' had become a euphamism for 'going out to see Karl', and she suspected Orson knew.

Orson was fighting so hard to keep her. It only made her desire to leave him more intense. The more he tried, the more desperate and undesirable he became. It only served to drive her faster into Karl's waiting arms.

Karl was always there for her, always ready to help. He'd kissed her, fucked her, made love to her, and now he held her. He held her like this before, after, or instead of having sex with her. It was what she wanted, what kept her from going crazy when it seemed she'd never be rid of the husband she could no longer stand.

But Karl was tired too. He was tired of sharing her with a man she didn't love, tired of seeing her stare off into space and lament her lot in life, and tired of waiting for her to do something about it.

Orson threatened to expose her, threatened to turn her in, threatened to bring her business down to the ground, all to keep her from leaving him. He promised to make it up to her, promised to treat her like the queen she was to him, promised to change his ways if it meant she would give him another chance. He whined, he pressed, he demanded and he begged.

Karl simply held her.

The breeze blew again, and Bree shivered. Karl wrapped his arms around her, putting his cheek to the top of her head.

"Do you remember that joke you made? When you said...wouldn't it be easier to have him killed?"

Bree's long stare remained, but she felt herself smiling the tiniest of smiles. Karl didn't elaborate, and she realized he wasn't just reminiscing. The barely-there smile vanished, and her breathing became less even than it had been. His hand had stopped caressing her back, and it felt heavy on her.

"I remember."

Karl remained silent. Now he was the one staring, and thinking. Bree raised her head, the only sound in the room the rustling of the sheets as she moved. She looked straight into Karl's eyes, and he refocused on hers. They stayed that way for a long time, expressionless, until Karl finally spoke.

"He'll never let you go. Not while he's alive."

It scared Bree a little. Not Karl's suggestion, but the fact that she was even considering it a viable possibility. She thought about all the problems that would disappear with Orson gone. Her personal life, her business life, would be clear. Open. Free.

Karl told her how they'd do it. They'd buy plane tickets; they'd be going on a trip. Except they'd never get on the plane. Karl's 'friend', the associate that choked Orson outside of his own home, would sit in Karl's seat, and they'd find a woman to pose as Bree. While the ringers convinced the airline that they'd actually caught their flight, Karl and Bree would remain in Fairview. Bree would call Orson, saying she wanted to work things out. They would meet at a hotel, or a motel just like the one they were in. And then Karl would do it. He would do the deed for Bree, to free her from the prison that her current life had become. He would do it so they wouldn't have to sneak around, so they could finally spend a night together without the lingering presence of another man. So he could have her all to himself and make her smile like she used to.

The sick excitement Bree felt in her heart was mixed with dread. Only the dread reached her face.

"It'll never work." she whispered, and she felt as tired as ever. An overwhelming sadness filled her then, the feeling that her life would never be good again.

Karl saw the tears fill her eyes, and his determination grew. His fingers caressed the soft features on her face; her temple, her cheek, her jawline, her slightly parted lips. The strand of hair he'd so lovingly placed behind her ear came loose.

"I'll make it work." he said. His eyes had always been able to convince her, because he always believed what he said. This time was no different. She looked up at him like a lost child, asking him without speaking if he'd be able to help bring her home.

His eyes said yes.


	2. The Plan Was Set In Motion

The day had arrived. The time would come. Everything had been set in place.

Karl's associate had left two days ago, with a woman neither of them knew. She had long red hair. That's all that mattered.

No one knew that Karl and Bree were still in town. Even the credit card companies would be fooled, since it looked like Bree had just purchased a number of items in a gift shop in Paris. Evan would soon be receiving a letter from Daddy postmarked in London.

The only man that knew Bree was in Fairview was Orson. That was because she'd called him and told him she'd changed her mind. She wanted to work things out, she wanted to stop acting so coldly toward him, and she wanted him to meet her right away at the hotel on Sunset and Beverly.

"Please hurry. I don't want to spend another minute of my life away from you, Orson."

She added his name at the end, speaking it tenderly into the phone. She knew it would send vibrations through his heart to hear her say his name like that once again. The way she used to.

He was on his way. Bree paced the room nervously, wondering how long it would take Karl to get there after she'd sent the signal that Orson had arrived.

She hadn't been so easily convinced. It was the sort of thing you daydreamed about, not something you actually planned out. But the more Karl had spoken about it, making it sound so simple, so necessary, as if they'd be doing Orson a favor by putting him out of his misery, the more she believed that it would all be okay. She now believed it would be possible to get away with murder and live their lives together, free of guilt, free of pain. Free of Orson.

Poor, stupid girl.

There were footsteps in the hall, and Bree stopped her pacing. She froze in place. He couldn't be here yet, she thought. It was too soon.

Second thoughts now? She asked herself. She tried to imagine Karl's eyes, staring deep into her, telling her to follow that dark feeling in her heart. His eyes influenced her like none had before, taking hold of her mind, warping her perception of what was right and wrong. When she was with him, anything was possible. When she was alone she didn't feel so sure. She believed in the possibilities, but she wasn't sure.

_He says he can't live without you. But you're already gone. If he really loves you that much, he'll understand._

Bree wondered if Orson would see it coming, if he would ever truly understand what Bree had done to him. Part of her wanted Orson to stare death in the face and know that it was his dear, precious wife that had brought him to this fate. That was the side of her that Karl brought out - pitch black, cruel, but completely real. Another part of her wanted him to leave her with a smile on his face and hope in his heart of a brighter future for the two of them. It was what he wanted most, and she'd once lived to give him everything he wanted. That was the side of her she still recognized within herself, even as she tired of its goodness. The side that wondered if she still had feelings for Orson, buried somewhere deep down inside the lost reaches of her heart.

That's why, she supposed, Karl was going to be the one doing it. He could make the decisions she couldn't.

She tried to think of the last truly happy time she'd had with Orson, and as she thought back on their years together, she was surprised at the mix of memories that came back to her. The revelations on their wedding night. Her first orgasm. The bag of teeth. Raising Benjamin. Losing Benjamin. Lies, promises, fights, reconciliations, support, undermining, smiles, frowns, laughter, tears.

Erasing any of the bad would take the good with it. Bree still wanted to hold on to that good.

There was another thing Bree seemed to feel when Karl wasn't around. Emotion.

She felt her chest rising, her neck uncomfortably tight. _For God's sake, am I crying?_

_She could see Orson's face, through the rain, as she turned in the street to face him. She was already in love with him, she could feel it. She just wanted someone to love her back, it had been so long. He smiled at her, and she no longer cared if they got completely soaked. She felt herself giggling. She hadn't laughed like this, really laughed, in years. __They kissed. Bree could have died in that moment, satisfied. She felt like she could breathe again._

There was a knock on the door.

"Bree?" came his muffled voice. "It's me. It's Orson."

Her heart said wait.


	3. She Had A Change Of Heart

Her instinct was to pretend she wasn't there. He'd walk away, remain safe, and she wouldn't have to face him. Then she heard the door knob turn, and she remembered that she'd left the door unlocked. It opened slowly, and he entered slowly, as if he didn't believe she'd be inside waiting for him.

"Bree." he said when he saw her. She could hear the relief in his voice, how grateful he was to have been given a second chance. But it wasn't a second chance, Bree told herself. It wasn't the third, or fourth, or last chance either. They were well beyond that.

Or so Bree had assumed. A flame had erupted in her heart where there had been nothing but ice for so very long, and she was being consumed by it's painfully discomfiting heat. No, this was not the way it was supposed to go. This was not at all what they'd planned.

Now she felt like she was cheating on Karl. What would he think of her, to know she was feeling this way? So unsure, so forgiving toward the man she'd been waiting an entire year to divorce. Karl had saved her dying spirit, given her a reason to be excited about life again, reminded her what passion really meant. And this was how she repaid him, by changing her mind at the last second?

No. This was how she repaid Orson. He'd done all of those things for her once. And when he'd done it, she'd felt clean and beautiful afterward, instead of this sickening mix of wrong and dirty. Everything she'd done with Karl had served to numb her, to kill her emotions, to rid herself of the awful sensation of feeling when all she could feel was hurt. Orson made her hurt, because she cared so much about him, because once upon a time he'd taken away an older hurt.

The rain that had fallen over their first kiss had washed so much of Bree's pain away. It hadn't rained a drop since she first kissed Karl.

"Tell me what I did to change your mind." said Orson, desperate longing in his eyes. "Whatever it is, I'll keep doing it."

Bree stared at him. She remained speechless, remained shocked by her own feelings, remained standing still even though her heart screamed at her to run into Orson's arms and be held by him forever. Bree felt the rain again. Except now, this day, it was tears falling from her eyes. She'd never stopped loving him, she'd just lost the fortitude to deal with her love. Because, when one truly loves another, giving their entire soul to them, they leave themselves open to a profound pain if the other turns against them. Orson had turned against her, after she'd turned against him. She'd reached her breaking point, dove straight off the deep end and landed right in Karl's pool of hate.

But now...

His eyes...

_It's not him._ Bree tried to tell herself. But it was too late; she'd seen him. She'd gotten a glimpse of the man she was in love with, and she wondered if she would have seen him at all if she hadn't set this plan in motion. If she hadn't reached the end of her rope, hadn't let Karl into the darkest part of her, hadn't asked Orson to be here in this room at this moment...would the love of her life have ever appeared to her again? She didn't want to see that man, had never expected to again, but she could tell that he'd seen the woman inside of Bree, the one the he was still in love with too. Maybe he didn't want to hurt her anymore.

The world thought Bree was in Europe. Karl had made sure of it, so they could kill this man. Bree hadn't given the signal yet.

* * *

She was everything to him. Everything he thought was good, beautiful and perfect she held inside of her, locked away tight as any precious possession should be. She'd allowed him access to the softest parts of her, never seen before by any other. She'd allowed him ownership of the fire and the steel she kept so guarded, her weapons against the world and the people in it.

Meeting her, a dream come true. Dating her, a dream come true. Being loved by her, so much that she agreed to be his wife, a dream come true. Hurting her so much that she couldn't bear to be near him anymore, the darkest nightmare of his life.

He'd messed up. Big time. She'd left him, long before asking him for a divorce, and for good reason. He'd taken all of it for granted, taken all her forgiveness and infinite understanding and thrown it away for pride and for a greed that only made him want more. She'd given him everything she had, devoted her time and effort to making his days better, and he'd messed it all up.

Yet, somehow, she was still waiting for him, asking him to meet her, telling him she wanted to work things out. He felt like he was dreaming, having somehow reached a heaven where his greatest wish was granted.

She hadn't said anything yet. He could tell she was confused, because he knew her well. He just didn't know her well enough to know what she was confused about.

"I love you, Bree. More than words could ever say. And I know that's not enough, just to love you. But I -"

"Orson." she said.

_Shut up. _she thought. _Shut up, and love me without saying it because I already know._

They were close now, close enough to touch each other. Since he'd closed the door behind him they'd inched toward one another, drawn to each other despite their hesitation.

It still hurt to look into his eyes and hear his voice. Bree still wasn't strong enough, not after all the months of feeling nothing at all. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her, kissing his lips so that maybe, this time, she could bear it. She squeezed so hard her knuckles turned white.

She felt his hands at her waist as he slowly wrapped his arms around her in a way that, in Bree's limited experience, was so uniquely Orson to her. He'd hold her, firmly and softly, protecting her as she allowerd herself to be vulnerable with affection. When he closed his arms around her, it was not a trap, not a constriction. It was home.

Her hands relaxed, though she still held his shirt. Bree melted into her beloved, falling into the feeling of being adored completely by another.

One last perfect kiss.

The opening of the door was silent. Bree happened to open her eyes as the doorknob turned. Her heart began to race. She closed her eyes again, lips still pressed to Orson's, kissing him harder than before, but was compelled to look once more. He was wearing the black suit, his arm held straight at his side. In a black-gloved hand he held a gun. The safety was off. Bree pulled her lips away and held Orson close to her, petting his hair with one hand while the other caressed his back.

"I love you." she whispered into Orson's ear, and to Orson alone.

The whole time, her eyes were locked to Karl's.

_Let him go._ his eyes said, still foolishly believing that he had her. He would be surprised to find that he did not have her at all, that he never had, and never would.

Her eyes said no.


	4. He'd Grown Tired Of Waiting

A game, that's what she'd been to him at first. A bet he'd made with himself just to prove that he could do it, that he could attain the unattainable, bed the unbedable, fuck the unfuckable. He'd succeeded, in a sense. Karl had gotten Bree into bed, but something unexpected happened along the way. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't until later, that it wasn't until one of those quiet motel moments that he'd begun to have feelings for her. He realized now that it was that first kiss that had done him in. That was the moment, when she straightened that little shirt and looked him in the eye to coyly ask for more, that he'd fallen in love with her.

Pulling her away from a man she still had feelings for, really breaking them up for good, had been his next task. Anyone could get divorced and end up back together; Karl had to make sure she would stay his, that she would obsess over him as much as he obsessed over her, to the point when everything she saw, heard, tasted and felt led to thoughts of him.

Karl was a patient man, but he had his limits too. He'd waited a year to have her all to himself, to hear her reply in kind when he told her how much he cared and that he would do anything, _anything _to please her. But still she maintained that last bit of distance, never giving herself over completely. As if she didn't quite believe the things he said. As if she secretly hoped life would somehow go back to the way it was before they'd begun their affair.

He'd grown tired of waiting. The fear of losing her had become too much to bear. So he used every trick, every wile that he had developed over the years of bleeding divorcees dry, to manipulate events and feelings to his benefit. He monopolized Bree's attention, making Orson feel isolated and desperate, which in turn drove Bree further away. He used sex to snare her, to make her feel special, giving her an addiction and a crutch to lean on. He made her think she was in danger of losing him, instead of it being the other way around. One always wanted what they couldn't have.

Karl had finally convinced her to get rid of Orson, really get rid of him, once and for all. But now the very plan meant to eradicate the lingering threat of reconciliation had revealed to her how much she wanted it. She still loved her husband, despite all Orson had done, despite all Karl had tried to do to make her hate him. She [i]should[/i] hate him, be disgusted by him, want nothing to do with him, Karl thought. But she still loved Orson.

Karl had decided, however, that that wasn't going to stop him.

* * *

_Let go._ Karl's eyes snarled at her.

Bree couldn't. She didn't want to, knowing what would happen if she released Orson even for a moment.

"I love you." she whispered again, closing her eyes to shut out the image of her accomplice, the master manipulator. Orson was deep, deep in her heart, but Karl was buried deep in her conscience.

"It's been 5 months since I've heard you say that." said Orson, kissing her neck and smelling her hair and squeezing her tighter. He pulled back, wanting to see her beautiful face. Bree swallowed hard, but she couldn't hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. "And almost a year since you really meant it."

"I'm sorry." Bree blurted out. In her peripheral vision she could see Karl closing the door behind him.

"So am I." said Orson.

Orson wanted to tell her exactly how sorry he was, that he was painfully aware of what a buffoon he'd been since coming home, but she was kissing him again. He could sense something was wrong. It wasn't lust or love in her kiss. It was clinging desperation. He began to wonder, as she clutched at his body like a lone piece of driftwood in a stormy sea, what it was that Bree really wanted, what it was that she really needed from him. They embraced again, fell into silence again. She obviously didn't need him to speak.

Her poor eyes, not ready for this many tears, burned with fear as she stared at Karl, at his cold eyes, his expressionless face, his gloves, his gun.

What she needed was forgiveness. What she needed was a way to erase the last year of her life, to make it disappear like a kidnapped child. A part of Bree still wanted Orson to die that day, so he would never know what she'd done, would never know what she had become: a monster, cold and crazy enough to agree to this, to killing a man.

_And for what?_ Bree tried to remember the logic that had brought her to this moment, the reasons she'd constructed for agreeing to Karl's plans. There'd been talk of gaining freedom from an unhappy marriage, but even as the memories of that night in the motel room came back to her Bree could feel another set of shackles tightening around her wrists.

No, Orson could never know. Whether he lived or died, he could never know. He deserved better than that. With her eyes, Bree begged Karl one last time to leave. She was too ashamed to speak his name aloud and announce his presence to Orson, sweet Orson, who let Bree hold him in silence as she lost control of her mind.

Karl's thumb moved to the hammer of the gun as he raised his arm. His love for Bree and his hate for Orson were one emotion inside of him, inseperable until Orson was gone. That was why he had to do it, had to go through with it no matter what Bree's eyes tried to tell him. The soft click as he cocked the small pistol was covered by Bree saying Orson's name, almost shouting it to prevent him from hearing the sound.

Her fear was infectious. Orson couldn't take it anymore, he had to know what was wrong. He took Bree by the arms, pulling her harshly away from him so he could see into her eyes.

"What?" he said, looking at her with an intense scrutiny. She looked like she was becoming unhinged. "What is it, Bree? Tell me!"

Karl's arm was level, steady, and he no longer looked at Bree.

She no longer looked at Karl, at either of them. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearing that Orson would learn the truth just by looking into them, seeing past them and into her very soul. He was in that deep.

"I'm sorry!" Bree sobbed. She could have sworn her heart stopped.

Then came the sound - a muffled pop. It wasn't enough. It didn't do justice to the event that it signified. Bree's eyes flew open. Orson was still standing in front of her, a red flower blossoming on the front of his white shirt. He looked down at himself, at the pain in his chest. It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd had a change of heart. The bullet that pierced his may as well have been driven there by Bree's own hand, as he understood in an instant what had happened. He didn't even want to turn and face whoever was behind him. It didn't matter who it was, only that he was at all. He looked back up at Bree, taking in the horror and the sorrow all at once.

He looked at her, before he collapsed, and his eyes said..._Why?_


	5. It Was Too Late

When Orson's legs began to fail him, they bent at the knees. He collapsed slowly, and Bree followed him down, trying in vain to keep him up. She clutched at his arms, but his weight pulled her to her knees. He laid down gently on the dirty carpet, his breath already shallow, and Bree knelt next to him, afraid to touch him and yet afraid to let go.

"I'm sorry," Bree kept sobbing, the tears coming so fast she barely gave herself time to breathe. "I'm sorry!"

Bree wished, too late, that the bullet had made it's way to her heart as well. Now he knew. He knew that she'd betrayed him. He knew she'd fallen so far from the pedestal he'd placed her on that she'd lost sight of heaven. And he knew he was dying.

He promised her it would be quick. He promised her it would be painless. He told her he was going to shoot Orson in the head, letting the bullet destroy his mind before he could understand what had happened. He hadn't kept any of those promises, choosing instead to find his own satisfaction by shattering Orson's heart in two ways. Karl wanted Orson to know that Bree now belonged to another man, not realizing that in showing Bree's true face to Orson, he'd revealed his own true face to Bree.

Karl watched, sickened not by their love for each other, which had weathered even this tragic turn, but by the truth he'd set free. His desperate need to have all of her only made her realize how meaningless their affair really was.

"Why?" asked Orson, using one of his last breaths to beg for an explanation. He'd never seen Bree cry so hard before, her emotion let loose so violently. He wasn't angry, and he had no time to feel betrayed. He only felt sorry that he was leaving, because it was clear Bree would miss him when he was gone.

"I thought I didn't love you anymore," Bree choked out between tear-filled sobs. "But I do, I love you so much!"

The blood was soaking through his shirt, making an uncomfortable mess. _How much more could be in him?_ They all wondered.

"I love you too, Bree." Orson said. His tone was light, as if he were saying it over Sunday brunch. He saw the stalks of Bree's arms, which surely led to the flowers of her hands that touched his face and neck. He couldn't feel her touch, but he knew she must be touching him. She clutched at him, trying to keep him in the world, but there was a light beckoning him to go somewhere else.

A moment later and he was gone. He died happy, knowing he and Bree would have worked things out. When she realized he'd left her, Bree lost it completely. She pushed herself away from his body, turning away and covering her face as her crying grew even more intense.

_It's not him._ She told herself again, and this time she meant it. She knew he was in heaven now, that he had to be. She also knew that she'd never see Orson again, for she knew that she was not going to join him there.

In allowing her this drawn out goodbye, Karl had allowed Orson's leaking body to make a mess of the floor. Now that Bree had torn herself away from him, he had a chance to go back to work. There was plastic sheeting in the duffel bag Bree brought with her to the hotel. He found it and pulled it out of the bag with a necessary cold indifference. He'd pulled the trigger, no use feeling sorry about it now. Even Bree's tears were ignored for the time being, they had to be for both their sakes. He could tend to her when he was done wrapping the body. When he was done protecting her.

It took him longer than expected. Still, when he was finally done, Bree kept crying. Karl took off his leather gloves, shoving them in the garbage bag with the rest of the things headed for the incinerator. Then he knelt next to Bree and took her by the arms, shaking her a bit to make her look at him.

"Listen to me." said Karl. "I can't make you stop crying. That's something you've got to do on your own. But we can't leave here until you've got yourself under control. Understand?"

Bree looked into his eyes. Like a rain cloud passing, Bree's tears stopped. The cold confidence in Karl's eyes no longer controlled her, but it allowed her to detach.

"I understand." she said, a lie. The truth was she didn't care what she could or couldn't do, or how her crying affected any of that. She didn't want to leave, she didn't want to cover it up, she didn't want to continue living her life without Orson in it.

Karl touched her face. It felt like a block of wood pressing against her cheek for all the tenderness it offered. She could not yet understand why, but she no longer recognized him. He was no longer Karl to her. He was, and forever would be, the man who killed her soulmate.

"We're gonna be okay." he told her, never realizing that there was no longer any 'we', if there had even been one to begin with.

His eyes said please, please stay with me.

She was already gone.


	6. Someone Had To Pay

The air was still. Like death. The windows were all closed up, because it was winter, and it was cold outside.

Bree confessed through the still air, to a woman she considered her best friend, the only woman that came close to knowing what it was like to _be _her. Katherine listened, to the woman she considered her best friend, the only woman that was as hard to figure out as she was.

She may have been shocked, but she did not judge. She listened, and observed. The colder Bree became, the more her emotions stormed within, Katherine knew that. Katherine was the same way. Like a black hole, sucking the feelings in, never seen by any other unless there was a weak moment.

This was not a weak moment for Bree. It was an incredibly strong moment. She told Katherine everything, from the sloppy sex in Karl's office to the daydreams of freedom, from that warm, breezy night in the motel to the exact moment she knew she'd made an unfathomably huge mistake. Then, the months afterward, still seeing Karl, still sick with guilt, still daydreaming of freedom.

"I don't know how much longer I can go on like this." said Bree, her voice like a ghost. The admission of failure was almost as devastating as the rest of her confession. "He expects me to move on. As if he hadn't murdered Orson in cold blood. I get sick to my stomach every time I look at him."

It had been months since that day. Bree and Karl, as they'd always planned, did not see each other for three weeks after the incident. They laid low, even though no one suspected a thing. Bree had been pretending with Orson until the very end. Everyone thought they were still happy, at least happy enough not to kill each other. And when she reported him missing, it was his criminal record that kept all suspicion of foul play on Orson. _Of course he would disappear, _thought his friends and neighbors. _It was only a matter of time..._

When the coast seemed clear, Karl began calling Bree again. She allowed him to be with her, have sex with her, tell her how much he still loved her. She took it all, never speaking about that day. She suspected he knew, or could at least sense that she'd grown cold. She felt nothing at all except a distant hate, a desire to be rid of him and every memory she'd had the misery of creating with him. Every time she saw Karl's face she felt Orson in her arms, and every time she remembered Orson in her arms she could feel him leaving her, always leaving her. She was forever trapped in the moment of his departure, feeling helpless and sensing the crushing loneliness waiting for her when the moment passed.

So she switched off. Felt nothing. It was easier that way. Katherine asked her why she was still seeing Karl, wondering how she could bear it. Bree explained that leaving Karl, or punishing him in any way, would lead to admitting what she'd done. Only now was she ready to do that.

To Bree's great relief, Katherine understood. She understood every bit of Bree's situation, from Karl's slow seduction to Bree's willingness to go along with his plan, from Bree's last minute revelation that she was still in love with Orson to the reasons she still deigned to let Karl touch her. Katherine also understood why Bree had come to her. She needed a way out, she needed payback, and she needed an objective mind to help her plan it.

Katherine told her how they would do it. Bree would tell Karl that she wanted to go away with him on a trip, to get away from it all. To reconnect. And when he came to her home to pick her up, she would offer him a very special drink.

Katherine told Bree not to worry, that she would work it all out for her. Bree couldn't help but feel a sense of deja vu.

She sat on Katherine's couch, feeling so small, and yet feeling like she was taking up too much space. She wasn't sure she deserved to share the oxygen in the room, much less gain sympathy from such a strong woman. Katherine had killed a husband too, but the universe between Wayne and Orson was immeasurable. Orson had stolen a ceramic duck. Wayne had stolen most of Katherine's adult life.

"Why are you helping me?" Bree whispered.

Katherine knelt in front of her, her hands clasping Bree's. She knew what it felt like to be so close to the edge that you couldn't feel solid ground anymore. She held on to Bree's hands, willing her not to let go.

"Because you made a mistake." said Katherine. "And I know how hard it is to fix one of those."

Katherine's words said _Follow me. I'll fix it._

With a nod, Bree said _I will._


	7. It Would All Be Over Soon

"I missed you."

That was the first thing he said to her, after she let him into her house. He grinned at her, and told her that he'd missed her. Bree's stomach turned. She didn't remember how to smile, couldn't recall feeling the emotions that caused people to bare their teeth so shamelessly.

He was still grinning when she handed him the glass. He really didn't know her at all. It didn't occur to him that she shouldn't have scotch in the house. Yet she'd made him this drink, and he accepted it readily because he was just so happy to see her.

Happy. Karl was happy, it was so sickeningly obvious. What kind of psychotic bastard could be happy after killing a man? Bree wondered. He acted as if she hadn't had a breakdown while holding her dying husband in her arms.

"We did it." Karl said, a twinkle in his eye. What he meant was, _We got away with it._ He meant it as a celebration. Bree felt it as an accusation. She would have been offended, if this hadn't all happened to her before. This time she'd played a much bigger, much more aware part in the tragedy of becoming a widow. And now she was playing a much bigger part in the payback.

Karl took a swig of the rich amber liquid, and Bree's heart soared. _We did it._ Bree would say to Katherine, or Katherine would say to Bree, when it was all over. But neither of them would smile. Not like Karl was smiling.

With his free hand, he reached out to caress her face.

"Now I can finally take you in my arms and know that -" said Karl, but his romantic talk was halted when Bree recoiled. In one simple turn of the head, Bree let him know that he was no longer allowed to touch her.

Karl's smile faded. So this was how it was going to be. Still cold, still distant. She couldn't even look him in the eye anymore.

"What? You're not feeling well?"

Bree barely had the motivation to speak to him. She was done with him, done with his callous attitude and done with his certainty. She had her own certainty now, the certainty that it would all be over soon. For both of them.

When she failed to answer his question, Karl's expression hardened. He stared at her face, willing her to look at him, but she refused.

"There really is no pleasing you, is there?" he asked quietly. There was a simmering anger beneath the surface, and a desperation that he'd never experienced before and didn't know what to do with. "I mean, what more can I do? I took a life for you, Bree."

A small change in Bree's demeanor when he said it told Karl all that he needed to know. He'd sold his soul to the devil and she still wasn't happy. He wasn't sure when, why, or how it happened, but somewhere along the way she'd changed her mind.

"You wanted this." he reminded her. His grip on the glass tightened as the feelings of rage and desperation grew within him. "You wanted this to happen."

"No." said Bree. Her heart beat faster. One sip wasn't going to do him in. She knew she should have faked it, for at least a few more minutes. Long enough for him to finish his drink at least. She just didn't have it in her anymore. "I didn't want this." she told him. "_You_ did."

"You agreed to it, Bree. I never would have done this if I didn't believe you were one hundred percent with me."

She grew silent once more, still avoiding his gaze. This was it, the end of the game. He had only one more card to play.

"I love you." said Karl.

The bare emotion in his voice made Bree want to vomit. She saw now with clarity, in sickening hindsight, how twisted Karl's reality truly was.

"No you don't." said Bree.

"Yes, I do. I've always loved you. I told you I'd do anything for you, and I did it. I shot a man. I killed him, I buried his body and I covered it all up to protect you. To free you. After all of that, you have to see that I _do _love you."

"You never loved me." Bree insisted. "You just wanted to own me."

"No -" said Karl, shaking his head in protest. Bree cut him off.

"If you really loved me you never would have turned me into this."

"...Into what?"

She finally met his gaze, and it burned him straight to the core of his being to see her look at him that way.

"Into _you_." Bree said with disdain. "A monster."

Karl continued to stare, dumbfounded. He felt like he'd been blindsided, never suspecting that in the distance Bree maintained between them, she held such contempt.

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asked her, heart broken until he saw her eyes glance at the glass in his hand. Slowly, Karl looked down into his drink, and finally dawned on him what was really going on. She'd given herself away with that glance, and she'd finally told him what he was to her. He was just one more body, one more sucker in an ever-growing line. And once that really sunk in, when it all came into focus, Karl lifted the glass, tipped his head back and downed the rest in one gulp.

"Karl." Bree stepped forward.

_Second thoughts again?_

Karl held his hand out, stopping her in her tracks. She'd made her choice. No turning back now. He would rather die than live without her anyway, and he felt sick with guilt over what he'd done for her. All for nothing.

"What are you gonna do, Bree?" Karl asked her. "Suck the poison out? Just...just stay back, and watch me die. Like you watched all of the other men in your life die."

He was starting to sweat, and he was feeling light-headed. His breath had grown ragged. But he wasn't done speaking.

"I'm not the monster, Bree. I didn't turn you into this. We both know that Orson wasn't the first man you murdered. He wasn't even the second. You've killed every man that's ever loved you, and you found a way to do it without ever getting the blood on your hands."

Karl's voice cracked on the last word. He stumbled, catching himself on the couch, and clutched at the front of his shirt. Pain lanced through his chest, and he knew he was dying. They all knew when they were dying.

For a moment Bree wondered if she was going to cry the way she'd cried when Orson left her. Karl's last words should have stung, should have stabbed at her heart, should have chilled her to the bone. She waited one second, and then two, then three. But she felt no sorrow or guilt. Her heart had been ripped out long ago, she realized. The feelings were gone. All she felt now was a great big scary nothing.

Karl collapsed on the floor, his body stiffening in a one last violent convulsion. His eyes remained open, and Bree watched the life go out of him.

_He's not the monster._ The words echoed in her mind. It didn't bother her, though. It would all be over soon.

* * *

Katherine arrived right on time, as always. She'd come to help Bree clean up the rest of the mess she'd made of her life. The first part of Katherine's plan to get rid of Karl had been carried out easily. Bree had acted alone, knowing that Katherine was going to help her with part two.

But Bree had changed the plan. She didn't want Katherine cleaning up any more messes. She deserved better than that.

Bree had left Karl in a heap on the floor, hand still curled around the poisoned glass. The liquor spilled onto her rug, but she didn't notice. She stared at her mess, studying it like a work of art. Then she moved to her bedroom, where she kept her pistol. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over her dresser, and she stopped to stare at the stranger she saw in its reflection. She thought long and hard about her good friend Mary Alice, about the deep dark emptiness she must have felt before taking her own life. The only thing Bree felt was a vague disappointment that Katherine would be the one to find her. Again, she deserved better. But she was the only one that would understand. That's what Bree hoped, anyway, with the last shred of hope she had in her.

Katherine found Bree on the floor in her bedroom, and she did understand. Katherine wept for her friend, but she understood perfectly.

_Just like a woman._ Wayne once said, just one of his infinite number of beer-fueled complaints about his wife. _Just like a woman to change her mind at the last minute. And what do you know?_

_She's changed her mind._

The End.


End file.
